


Renewed

by fio



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Reality, Canonical Character Death, Car Accidents, Fallen Castiel, M/M, Mute Castiel, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:36:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fio/pseuds/fio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's uncle Bobby has been letting him stay at his home and help out with the Singer Salvage Yard while he gets back on his feet. When Bobby brings a second guest to stay with them after a mysterious phone call from a friend, Dean is thrown off-balance, but it may just be for the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Renewed

**Author's Note:**

> this was my secret santa gift for **[thimblings](http://thimblings.tumblr.com/)**! you didn't specify a prompt, so since i love your artwork so much, the way so much emotion and love is communicated in pieces with simple lines without words, i tried to interpret that into fic somehow and it turned into something a bit like the little mermaid from the prince's perspective. warnings for several mentions of a car accident and john winchester. hope you have a happy holiday season! and many thanks to [ghostlights](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostlights) for the beta!

Dean's alarm went off at seven o'clock sharp, and he reached instinctively to grab for his phone alarm only to hit empty air. He blinked his eyes open in confusion, the blaring howl of the alarm still going as he tried to get his bearings. It took a few long seconds of focused squinting to realize where he was, in his new room at his uncle Bobby's where the clock was set on the desk against the opposite wall instead of sprawled out along the backseat of a car with his phone going off on his chest. He brought a hand up to his face and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, shoving his blankets off and stumbling his way to the clock to finally shut off the alarm. This wasn't a new situation--he'd been at Bobby's place for just over a month--but his brain was always slow to catch up in the mornings.

He looked around for his suitcase and pulled out one of the few clean shirts he had left in it and grabbed a pair of cleanish-looking jeans off the floor before heading across the hall to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm up before stepping in, wincing as he pulled off his boxers and caught sight of his newest scar.

Dean stepped under the water without looking down again, closing his eyes to keep from staring at his hip. The spray of the shower felt good, refreshing, and it helped dispel the last of his grogginess, making the earth more solid beneath his feet. He grabbed the soap and lathered it up between his hands, taking a deep breath of steam.

"Just get clean," he mumbled to himself, starting to scrub and being careful around his scar.

After his quick shower, Dean made his way downstairs, smelling clean as he buttoned up his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. He and Bobby had agreed to an alternating schedule for who made breakfast and today was Bobby's turn, but when Dean walked into the kitchen he found an abandoned skillet full of uncooked bacon with the heat on low and no uncle in sight. Dean noticed the kitchen phone was missing, the cord pulled taut where it curled around the doorway, and figured whoever called was someone important.

Not wanting to interrupt Bobby's business, Dean turned up the flames and looked around for the tongs. He didn't know how long Bobby would be on the phone, but he did know he wasn't going to wait for him to get back when he could take care of breakfast himself. He poked at the strips on the skillet for a while, checking to see when they needed flipping and doing so when they started to look cooked on one side. When he was confident he could leave the bacon unattended for a moment, he wandered over to the fridge, grabbing a cup from one of the cupboards to make himself a glass of orange juice.

Before he could pull it open, he heard Bobby's voice from just around the doorway, "I ain't opening a halfway house here, Pam. Dean's family, that's why he's here, but I don't know this kid you found, so why do I need to house him?"

Dean froze, his fist squeezing tight around the fridge handle but not daring to pull it open and make a sound. He felt queasy with a growing sense of guilt at Bobby's words. He knew he was a charity case nobody wanted to take on but Bobby had gotten saddled with him anyway, and now that he'd taken in one, people were trying to dump more in his lap.

The loud sizzle and snap of bacon grease startled him and he stumbled back to the stove, no longer thirsty and trying to concentrate over the sound of his heartbeat slamming in his ears. His hands shook as he tried to flip the bacon, the metal sound of the tongs clapping together every time he missed what he was grabbing for making him more and more anxious until he couldn't hold onto them anymore. They fell to the floor with a loud smack and Dean turned off the heat, stepping away until the back of his legs hit the kitchen table.

"Fuck," Dean hissed, covering his eyes with a shaky hand and pulling it down across his face.

He got his breathing back under control about the same time Bobby finished up his phone call and came back into the kitchen, startling a bit at the sight of Dean leaning against the table. "You okay, boy?" he asked as he walked by to hang the phone back up.

"Yeah, uh. Turned the stove off, wasn't sure how long you were gonna be on the phone. Sorry."

Bobby's eyes fell to the tongs on the floor, and Dean cursed quietly, but he didn't say a thing about it. He bent down and picked them up, turning the burner back on before rinsing them in the sink.

"That's fine. Listen, I just got a call from an old friend of mine, name's Pamela. She's asked me a favor but I have to go to her place before I can agree," Bobby explained, flipping some of the strips of bacon before looking back at Dean, "You gonna be fine here if I leave?"

Dean hesitated, then bit angrily at the inside of his cheek for hesitating and nodded fast, "Yeah. I can take care of any calls or tow jobs." That wasn't really what Bobby had been asking, but both of them knew the real answer he was giving. Dean was far from fine, but he could handle a day alone.

"Good," Bobby said, turning back to the stove, "I'm gonna head out after we eat and I'll probably be gone until at least tonight. There's nothing that needs doing right away so you can work on the Impala as long as you keep an ear open for the phones. We haven't gotten any snow yet, but it's getting colder so the roads may ice up some places, probably gonna start getting busier around here soon."

"Got it. I'll, um, be in the living room."

"Alright, I'll call you when breakfast is ready," Bobby said with a wave of his hand and Dean left the room as fast as he could.

*

The Impala had been Dean's father's car, something he'd dreamed of inheriting as a proud father's gift to his son since he was four. Looking at it now, more scrap than car, it fit right in with just about everything else he'd inherited from his dad: a strained relationship with his brother, a drinking problem, and a handful of skills more suited to get his ass landed in jail than land him an actual job. Bobby had helped him with the first two--Sam was talking to him again but he was busy with finals for the month so Dean hadn't heard from him lately; and the house had been kept dry since his arrival and Dean was sent to meetings he was too guilty to ditch until he stopped itching for drinks--and was working on the third, but Dean insisted on dealing with the Impala on his own.

He walked around the Impala's busted body, putting a hand to the sharp metal edges where the passenger side door had been. Where _he_ had been.

Dean pulled his hand back, shaking his head to dispel the thoughts it conjured up, and headed for the car yard. The odds that Bobby had collected a car with the same make, model and year were slim, but his uncle had been managing the Singer Salvage Yard for long enough it wasn't too hard to imagine he had most of the parts he needed.

Breathing in the chilly December air as he walked through the rows and stacks of busted vans, trucks and sports cars, Dean wondered briefly if he should even bother trying to repair it at this point. But the Impala had been more of a home to him than anywhere else, and he wasn't going to let it go.

*

Bobby didn't make it back by the time Dean headed to bed, but Dean heard him talking downstairs the next morning once he turned off his alarm. He tensed for a few seconds, his dread snapping him wide awake as he braced himself to hear another voice, another guest foisted upon his uncle that he was too kind to turn away. But as he waited and listened, there was only Bobby's, and Dean let out the breath he'd been holding, figuring Bobby was just talking on the phone again.

He headed for the shower once the panic was over, determined to stick to his routine. Under the water, he thought about how he was nearly out of fresh clothes and would have to do laundry soon. After working on the Impala yesterday, it was a bit harder to keep his eyes off of his scar, but once he was toweled off and had his boxers back on, he was fine.

Walking downstairs, he felt almost relaxed, until he stepped into the kitchen.

"Oh, here he is. Castiel, this is Dean. Dean, Castiel. He's gonna stay here with us," Bobby said, waving Dean over. The man standing beside Bobby turned and stared at Dean with bright, wide eyes, neither stepping forward to offer a handshake or saying a word. Dean was similarly frozen, gawking at this stranger in shock and growing panic, until Bobby coughed loudly. "Uh, is there a problem?"

"What?" Dean asked, unable to keep the disbelief out of his voice as he turned to his uncle, but he caught himself and shook his head. "No. No, I'm just. Groggy. Hi," he finished weakly, shoving his hands in his jean pockets, not trusting them to be steady enough for a handshake.

He waited for the guy--Castiel--to greet him back, say something, or at least smile, but all he did was nod and keep on staring. Dean looked between him and Bobby, confused and growing more irritated by the second until Bobby spoke up, "Sorry, Castiel is--. Well, he's mute. And he takes a while to get over the staring thing."

"Okay," Dean said. That at least explained why he hadn't heard a second voice earlier. So the guy couldn't talk. And he had a 'thing' about staring. He could handle that. But he wasn't sure why Bobby had brought him here, why he would even agree to this at all, unless it was his fault. Dean was fairly sociable when he wanted to be and he didn't mind working with other people, but Bobby liked his privacy and having his own space. That's why he had his own business in South Dakota, one that didn't take many people to run it. He'd given Dean a place to stay after he was cleared by the hospital because he had nowhere else to go and he'd known him since he was young, but even then, Dean knew he didn't really deserve to be there, and now he'd given someone else the excuse they needed to force Bobby to take in someone else.

The longer the three of them stood in silence, the heavier it felt and the louder Dean's own angry, anxious thoughts swarmed around in his head, until the quiet was broken by the loud ring of the telephone, startling them all.

Bobby stepped away to grab it, leaving Dean and Castiel to stare at each other. Dean had been too shocked to really take in much about him, but now he noticed that Castiel was wearing... a woman's blouse, women's sweatpants that were too short for his legs, and slippers. The only thing he had on that wasn't absolutely ill-fitting was the tan trenchcoat he wore over the rest, but even that looked a bit too big on him. None of the clothes he was wearing seemed to belong to him at all, which made it impossible to tell where he had come from. His face was clean-shaven, so he at least knew how to do that unless someone had done it for him, and his hair looked freshly washed, fluffy and dark and pointing in several different directions like someone had run their hands through it. He was almost Dean's height, too tall for the clothes he was wearing, but still skinny enough that they weren't pulled too tight around him.

The strangest thing about him was how he stood. Everything about his face made him look like he was lost, confused and new to the place around him, but his back was straight, his shoulders pulled back and his chin pushed out. He stood like a soldier, like he'd never slouched a day in his life, and it made Dean straighten up a little himself without realizing.

"Gonna have to wait on breakfast, got a call for a tow," Bobby said, and Dean's eyes snapped to him but fell back to watch as Castiel turned away from Dean to look in Bobby's direction as well. "Castiel should go on this one, just to see what he needs to know how to do. You mind taking him, Dean?"

"Yeah, sure," Dean coughed, trying to keep his eyes off Castiel, "But I'm not taking him dressed like that."

"Good idea. Pam only had the stuff lying around her place to give him. Do you have anything spare or should I go get him something? We're about the same height, right?"

"I got it," Dean said, heading for the stairs. He didn't have many clean clothes left, but he wasn't about to make Bobby offer anything more than he already had. Dean was already a few steps up when he realized Castiel hadn't followed him. "Hey, come on," he called, and after a few seconds and something mumbled by Bobby, Castiel stepped out of the kitchen and walked towards him. Dean continued up the staircase and opened the door to his room, letting Castiel in after him.

"Sorry it's messy," Dean mumbled, kicking open his suitcase. He glanced over at Castiel, who was taking in the room like he was preparing to be tested on it later, and shook his head, more amused than anything. He grabbed a black band t-shirt out of the pile of clothes, figuring if it wasn't completely clean it'd at least be hard to tell, the only clean pair of jeans he had left, some socks and his only other belt. He held them out for Castiel to take, clearing his throat to get his attention. When Castiel looked back at him, Dean felt suddenly off-kilter, like he was being looked _through_ rather than looked at. But he shrugged the feeling off quick enough, shoving the clothes in his hands against Castiel's chest until he brought up his arms to hold it himself.

"You can wear that. It might be a little loose, but it's better than what you've got. About shoes, I know I have a pair of back up boots somewhere..." he trailed off, looking away to pick through the pants, socks, jackets and shirts scattered all over the floor to find those shoes. He really needed to work on cleaning, but he hadn't been in the mood to do it yet. Now with another guest in the house, though, he felt he needed to set a good example, at least to keep Castiel from feeling like he could do whatever he wanted and take advantage of the space he had been given.

After several moments of searching, he finally found them and turned back around to offer them, only to freeze at the sight of Castiel, already shirtless, pulling off his sweatpants to reveal that he was wearing very pink, very feminine panties.

Dean's heart slammed in his chest at a frightening speed and his mouth went dry. He understood that if what Bobby said about Pamela lending Castiel clothes was true, then he probably had none before coming to her, and that--sort of--explained why he was wearing women's underwear. But the sweat on his palms and the heat pulsing through his belly, making his dick jump in his jeans, didn't care about logic. All his body was thinking about was the guy standing in nothing but hot underwear in his room.

Dean tried to swallow and couldn't manage it. He couldn't speak up and offer Castiel some boxers, so he just stood there frozen with the pair of boots in his hands, watching him pull on the pair of jeans Dean had lent him, and _then_ all Dean could do was think about the guy wearing hot underwear under _his clothes_ and how hot _that_ was. He could feel his jeans getting tighter and dropped the boots on the floor, stepping out of the room as fast as his feet could go, not looking back even when he knew Castiel was turning to look after him.

"I'll meet you outside," Dean said, loud enough for both Castiel and Bobby to hear, rushing down the stairs and out the front door. After a surprise like that, he needed some time alone to calm down.

He heard the front door open again after a few minutes of deep breathing and head shaking, and he tensed, expecting the new guy and panicking for a second before he heard Bobby say, "I got the directions to where they need the tow." Dean let out a loud, relieved breath. Bobby walked to his side to hold out the directions and a jacket, which Dean had forgotten to grab, but he looked concerned. "Dean, are you sure you're fine with this?"

"Yeah, it's no big deal," Dean insisted, taking the paper and jacket from Bobby.

"You seem... jittery, is all."

"It's... He's just..." Dean started, pushing his arms through the sleeves, not sure how to explain to his uncle that he was thinking about what their new guest was wearing under his clothes. He didn't get a chance to figure it out, seeing Castiel step out the door. He had the trenchcoat back on but what he was wearing underneath it--the Who band logo peeking out from its open front--looked much better on him than what he'd shown up in, if a bit loose. Dean swallowed loud, shaking his head. "It's nothing," he answered finally, walking towards the tow truck, expecting Castiel to follow.

*

The ride out in the truck was a bit awkward, but less so than Dean had panicked about it being. Castiel turned his staring away from Dean and out the window, fascinated by the view as they drove past, and with Castiel's eyes off of him, it was easier to calm down. His mind couldn't _forget_ the pink panties, but he could at least not focus on them when he had a job and the road to focus on instead, and since Castiel wouldn't be talking, his mind wouldn't keep getting dragged back to them.

The job went by smoothly, too. They were picking up a car that had been, both fortunately and unfortunately, hit while empty and parked in the owner's driveway and a neighbor's teenage son backed up into it from across the street. Dean greeted the police officers still on the scene and they cleared the driveway to let him back the truck up close enough to hook the car. He talked through the steps as he did them while Castiel watched and listened, though Dean was careful not to meet his eyes once during his explanation. Once the car was properly attached to their truck, he talked to the police again, letting them know the salvage yard would contact them with the fees.

Driving back towards Bobby's, Dean let his eyes roam over to Castiel every once in a while, quirking an eyebrow up at how stiff and straight his posture was, as if he rarely rode in cars.

Where the hell had Pamela found him? His body language gave conflicting clues, and he couldn't talk or answer questions about himself. Dean couldn't figure out anything about him just by watching him, either, which was frustrating. He had a talent for reading people--something his father had taught him for easier swindling--but there was nothing to read off this guy.

_Maybe he's an alien,_ Dean thought, turning his attention back to the road. A really hot alien who didn't mind ladies underwear. _Nope! No, I am not thinking about this,_ he insisted, shaking his head. He tried picturing actual alien-looking aliens wandering around a corn field with underwear on their heads instead to get the image of Castiel out of his head. It sort-of worked--that image would probably never disappear, but at least he could distract himself with something else--and he smiled a bit, amused by the idea of Castiel's strangeness being otherworldly. He snorted, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. _Yeah right_.

*

By the time they got back from the job, it was already noon and Bobby gave them the go ahead to take a break if they wanted. Dean jumped at the chance to put some space between him and Castiel, starting with something to eat. Making himself a sandwich, Dean caught sight of Castiel out the window, still wearing Dean's clothes and walking towards Bobby where he was out in the yard cataloguing parts. Dean tensed at the idea of Castiel hanging around Bobby, distracting him when he wanted to concentrate and work, but he didn't look too bothered to be interrupted, and Dean relaxed a bit. Looking at Castiel, just a little too small for the things he was wearing, Dean remembered the state of his room and the dwindling number of clean shirts and pants he had left and decided to do a wash. If he was going to have to share, he might as well make sure his clothes were clean.

He finished his sandwich, cleaned and put away his plate, and made his way upstairs. Bobby didn't have much in the way of hampers, so whatever Dean found in need of a wash was tossed onto a pile on his bed. Since almost all of the clothes he had ended up in the pile, he had to make a couple trips down to the washing machine in the basement. On his last one, he heard footsteps follow him down.

"What is it?" Dean asked. He paused in shoving his things into the washing machine to look up, waiting for Castiel to answer before remembering that he couldn't speak.

"Do you need something from me?" he asked instead. Castiel shook his head. "You want me to throw in your other clothes with this load?" Dean thought maybe he'd want to wash them before returning them to Pamela, but again he shook his head. Dean started getting irritated then, not sure why this guy felt the need to watch him wash his darks, and went back to pushing shirts and jeans into the machine. "Look, I don't know what you want, but if you don't need anything, don't freakin' stand there just to stare at me."

Dean didn't look at him again until he was finished, but Castiel was still there when he turned away from the machine, looking disappointed down at his feet. Dean let out a sigh, rolling up his sleeves just to give his hands something to do. "Did Bobby tell you to stick to me?"

Castiel shook his head, but kept his eyes down this time. Dean folded his arms across his chest. He didn't want to play twenty questions with this guy every time he wanted an answer out of him, but he didn't know how many options he had. Dean thought about telling him to just leave him be, but that would leave only Bobby for him to go pester and that was the last thing he wanted.

Sighing again, he asked, "Do you want to help me out with something?" and Castiel's head shot up to nod so fast Dean had to take a step back in surprise, but after a moment he let out a laugh. "You're a real weird guy, Cas--... uh," Dean trailed off, not sure how to pronounce his name aloud. The longer he stayed quiet trying to figure it out, the more awkward he started to feel, and he soon gave up and asked, "Can I just call you Cas? Your name's kinda unusual, sorry."

Cas nodded enthusiastically again, and Dean couldn't help but smile.

"Alright then, follow me."

*

"Cas, Impala. Impala, Cas."

Cas tilted his head, glancing curiously between Dean and the busted-up wreck of a car sitting in front of them. 

"She's not looking too hot right now, but that's what you're going to help me with. At least, when Bobby doesn't have other stuff for us to do," Dean explained, "I'll talk you through it. We have to find some parts and then bang out the dents and then..." He went quiet fast when Cas stepped towards the front passenger seat, putting a hand to the metal. He felt his skin break out in goosebumps and his heart plummet into his stomach when Cas' eyes moved from the jagged metal to Dean--like he _knew_.

But he couldn't. Unless Bobby said something... But why would he? Bobby didn't even know much about what had happened himself, either, so why would he share it with Cas? Dean refused to believe it, shaking his head and swallowing loud. He turned around and headed for the rows of cars, waving a hand for Cas to follow. "I replaced the stuff in the engine and busted the frame back into shape, but there's still a few parts I need to find before I can move onto the rest of the body. I'll show you what I'm looking for over this way," he said, talking loud and keeping his eyes directed far and away from Cas' own.

*

Over the next few days, Cas helped with Dean's slow restoration of the Impala between tasks and tow jobs for the salvage yard, but even when they weren't working on anything, he stuck to Dean's side from the time he woke up to the time he went to bed. He'd thought at first that he'd get irritated being followed all the time, but Cas was a quick learner when it came to the job and a helpful hand with the Impala.

Dean had slowly been learning things about Cas the longer he stayed and hung around him, each new bit of information making him stranger and more interesting. He didn't eat or drink much unless Bobby or Dean commented about it during meals, he didn't know how to work anything in the kitchen or even the shower until Dean showed him, he didn't recognize any of the music Dean played, and he had apparently never seen a single decent film in his life. Dean was starting to think he really _was_ an alien, but at least he was an alien with good taste because he ended up enjoying most of what Dean introduced him to.

Almost a week into his stay, he was still wearing something different of Dean's every day. Dean left a change of clothes by the couch for him in the morning, but he always had the trenchcoat on top. Dean had been leaving Cas some of his spare boxers, too, but had yet to see _that_ underwear show up in the dirty clothes pile by his bed that he'd instructed Cas to leave his dirty things on. He was starting to wonder if he'd imagined it, but he wasn't the type to picture guys he just met wearing women's underwear.

"You should take him shopping," Bobby suggested once the weekend hit. The two of them were cleaning up the breakfast dishes while Cas showered.

"Why? My clothes fit him," Dean said, surprising both himself and Bobby with how insistent he sounded.

"Sure they do, but do you really want to be sharing half your things for however long he's gonna be here?"

"How long is that, anyway?"

"Uh... Indefinitely, at the moment," Bobby said, pulling his hat off to run a hand across his head before pulling it back on. That was one of his tells--he was telling the truth, but not all of it--but Dean didn't feel like pushing for the rest, so he shrugged and agreed to the shopping trip. Once Cas made his way downstairs, Dean ushered him out the door.

*

"See anything you like?"

Cas looked around at the shelves and stands full of clothes, face blank. Dean was positive he'd never been shopping before, and taking pity on him, put his hands on his shoulders and steered him forward toward the graphic tees.

"You don't mind my taste in clothes, right?" Dean asked and Cas shook his head as they walked forward. "Then I'll pick out some stuff, and you can try it on to make sure it fits, since my size is a little loose on you."

Cas ended up with a pile of shirts he could barely see over by the time Dean was satisfied, and Dean dragged him gently by the arm towards the jeans next. He only picked out a few before leading Cas back towards the changing rooms. "I'll be out here. Just make a pile of what you like that fits and another for what you don't like and come out when you're done," Dean said, pulling the door shut. He was happy to hum along to the holiday tunes playing over the store speakers and wait, but only a couple minutes later, Cas had pulled the door back open, wearing one of the new pairs of jeans and an AC/DC shirt that fit him very snuggly.

"Uh. Does it fit?" Dean asked, caught a bit off guard. Cas nodded, but kept staring at him expectantly, and he realized Cas wanted his opinion. "It looks. Good," he said, feeling his face get a bit warm when Cas smiled and shut the door again. The girl at the front of the changing rooms kept glancing at him after that, and Dean considered going over to chat her up and lie about Cas being his helpless younger brother or something, but didn't bother. Cas repeated the process with the next few shirts and pairs of jeans and each time, Dean insisted that he looked just fine until eventually he laughed, "Dude, you'll look good in whatever, you don't need to keep asking me."

Dean was surprised again when after that, Cas blushed a light pink and nodded his understanding before shutting the door again. Dean felt his face start to burn and glanced back at the girl near the front who was giggling behind her hand now. _Oh crap,_ he thought to himself, staring down at his feet.

Cas didn't come out of the changing room until he was back in Dean's clothes again, and they both had a hard time looking at each other as they headed for the checkout aisles. Dean told Cas to wait in line while he ran to grab something, jogging back to where the underwear and socks were. He grabbed two sets of each, enough for just over a week's worth of both. On his way back to Cas, he looked over at the women's section and considered it, for just a second, before shaking his head and making his way back to the checkout line. 

*

The drive to the shoe store was silent. Dean didn't touch the radio, not sure that any kind of music would help with the weird new tension between them, and Cas kept his eyes on the bag of new clothes in his lap.

At the next shop, Dean told the first clerk he found what Cas needed and stayed as out of the way as he could. Cas had no preference for style so Dean had asked her to just bring out some boots in an appropriate size, and Cas could answer the clerk's questions about the fit with a nod or head shake. He was satisfied with the second pair he tried on, and they checked out and headed back to the truck.

Dean started the engine, but didn't start driving yet. If they got back with the air around them still this awkward, Bobby was going to notice and explaining that Dean had realized they were sort of hot for each other and not sure what to do about it was less than ideal. He thumbed his lip and, keeping his eyes facing forward, asked, "Hey, you hungry?"

He caught Cas nod out of the corner of his eye and clapped his hands. "Alright. Time to introduce you to burgers."

Castiel had yet to _dislike_ a food he'd been served, but he hadn't been overly enthusiastic about anything so far either. But Dean had faith in the American staple and drove to a restaurant he remembered had one of the best burgers he'd eaten in a long time. They made their way inside and were seated in a booth towards the back, and Dean wasted no time ordering them both a cheeseburger with the works. Dean didn't say anything while they waited for their food, but the warm atmosphere and low buzz of noise from other customers and music playing over the radio made his silence less awkward.

Across the table, Cas fiddled with the straw of his water, and it was the first time Dean had seen him do something like that. He didn't seem to feel awkward about anything, even if Bobby and, much more often, Dean did around him. It was part of that bizarre, almost inhuman aloofness he had. But here he was, fiddling and fidgeting, unable to meet Dean's gaze, and it made Dean grin.

When their orders arrived, Dean beamed and Cas finally looked at his face, searching for instruction on what to do with the massive burger in front of him. Dean picked up his own and Cas mirrored him, watching Dean's mouth in a way that left Dean feeling a bit overheated before taking a bite. "Shit, that's good," he said once he'd finished chewing, and he waited with a buzzing excitement, burger still in his hands, for Cas to do the same.

Cas' bite was much smaller than Dean's, and his chewing was slower and more curious. But as he worked on his bite, his eyes got bigger, and Dean laughed. "Like that, huh?" he asked, and Cas nodded quickly, biting into his cheeseburger again. It was the fastest Dean had seen him finish his plate, though Dean got to finish off his fries.

"Hey," Dean said on their way out, making Cas slow down to look at him before they reached the truck. "You wanna try hot dogs tomorrow?" Cas looked confused for a second before smiling and giving a nod. Dean slapped him affectionately on the shoulder as they walked the rest of the way across the parking lot, the air around them lighter now and almost warm despite the December chill.

*

"You and Cas getting along pretty well, huh?"

"Uh," Dean jerked in surprise, dropping the tarp they were carrying. Since it looked like it was going to snow soon, Dean had decided to cover the Impala up. There was some garage space, but since bad winter weather guaranteed a much busier yard, Dean figured he'd be too busy doing pick-ups to work on it much. Cas was the one he expected to help him, but Bobby had put him on soup-monitoring duty and offered to help instead. Dean grabbed the tarp off the ground, trying to play it cool, but Bobby was giving him a look that said he wasn't fooled at all.

"I didn't have high hopes, but things turned out alright."

Dean frowned, wondering what sort of hopes Bobby could've had and why. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just glad, that's all."

"About what?"

Bobby didn't answer at first, the two of them having reached the still-in-progress Impala and spreading out his half of the tarp. Dean did the same on his end, but insisted, feeling tense, "What're you talking about?"

"It's nice seeing you getting along with somebody who ain't ordering you around," Bobby said, pulling his hat off to readjust it. Dean froze, hands still gripping the tarp. He hadn't talked about his father with anyone, not even Bobby, since he died and Dean walked away alive. He wasn't prepared, and felt like he might fall over, but Bobby wasn't leaving. He waited for Dean to say something, watching him closely.

Dean eventually let go of the tarp, the color in his knuckles slowly coming back. "I don't miss the way things used to be, if that's what you were thinking." And he didn't. He never could've imagined leaving it behind, but here he had.

"It wasn't, but I'm happy to hear it," Bobby said, walking over to squeeze his shoulder. "Now c'mon, boy, let's head inside. It's too damned cold out here."

Back in the house, Cas met them with a worried frown, but Bobby pat him on the arm as he walked by and Dean gave him a nod as he closed the door behind him. When Cas smiled back, he felt warmer already.

*

Dean hadn't celebrated Christmas since he was little, Bobby hadn't since he lost his wife, and Cas was either an alien or so sheltered he might as well have been, so Dean was pretty sure he didn't celebrate it either. They didn't put up a tree or any kind of decorations, though they did say the occasional, "Happy holidays," over the phone when they got calls. But the closer it got to the big holiday, the more Christmas movies they played on TV, so Dean made Cas watch the good ones when they were on.

Since he'd arrived, Cas' posture had gradually gotten less and less proper and he slouched in his seat on the couch while Dean set down a popcorn bowl and some sodas on the coffee table. Dean shouldn't have felt so proud about slowly but surely being a bad influence, but he couldn't help it. When he sat down on the couch, Cas leaned into his side, making his whole body feel warm. Dean had let Cas sit closer and closer every time they watched movies together until they were side by side. Though he never said anything about it one way or the other, he didn't mind Cas invading his space, something he couldn't have imagined back when he first arrived.

Watching John McClane fighting terrorists with their bare feet up on the table, Dean felt at ease for the first time in a long while. He was... _happy_. He knew he didn't really have the right to--he owed Bobby so much and hadn't done much in the way of repaying him--but his worries weren't enough to distract him tonight from Cas' warmth and the occasional brush of their knuckles in the popcorn bowl.

By the time the movie was over, Cas was asleep against his side. Dean flipped through other channels, but didn't see much of anything and turned the TV off. Bobby was already asleep in his room, and the sofa was where Cas' slept, so Dean knew he should head to bed himself, but he couldn't make himself get up just yet. It wasn't until he heard the phone go off in the kitchen that he slowly got up, making sure Cas wasn't dropped carelessly down onto the sofa and rattled awake. He jogged over to the phone and grabbed it before it stopped ringing, answering with a quiet, "Singer Salvage Yard."

"Hey, Dean, is it Christmas there yet?" Sam's voice answered. Dean broke out into a wide smile immediately, glancing at the clock on the stove.

"You're right on time."

"Merry Christmas, man."

"Merry Christmas, Sammy. You still have a few hours to wait though, huh?"

"Yeah, but I figured you'd be awake anyway. Is it snowing out there?"

Dean looked out the window and saw the large flakes of snow falling in the dim moonlight. "Yup. Your lucky ass doesn't have to worry about that out in California."

"Hey! It gets chilly here, too," Sam protested, but he was laughing and Dean felt his face getting tired already from how wide he was grinning. He hadn't heard from Sam since before Cas had shown up and it was great to hear his voice. He had a million questions, wanted to know everything about finals and his girlfriend and how his holidays were going, but it was late and he knew Sammy would probably call again later tomorrow to have a proper talk with both him and Bobby. Dean looked over at the sofa from where he was leaning against the kitchen table, watching Cas' chest slowly rising and falling as he slept, and wanted to tell Sam all about him.

_Huh,_ Dean thought, _I've never wanted to tell Sam about anyone before._

It was a stray thought, casually popping up in his mind amidst the excitement of getting to talk to Sam again for the first time in a while, but the weight of it hit him almost immediately and he realized, _Oh crap,_ just as a light pulsed through the house and nearly every electrical appliance inside and every transformer outside burst, loud as a thunderclap.

Dean dropped the phone, but it had probably gone dead before it left his ear, and ducked under the table in case another pulse came. It was silent now, and dark with all the lights blown out. The floor was covered in glass and several things, including the television, had smoke coming out of them. He heard a bunch of thumping upstairs and a muffled shout of, " _Balls!_ " before he heard Bobby coming down the stairs with a flashlight in his hand, looking around for them both. "Boys, you alright?

"I'm fine," Dean called back, careful to avoid glass as he crawled out from under the table, "Cas? Is he okay?"

They both made their way towards the couch, Dean beating Bobby there. He thought Cas was still just asleep on his side for a second, but his whole body was shaking, and when Bobby flashed the light on him, Dean realized his eyes were open, tears streaming messily across his face, and he was struggling for breath. "Cas? Hey, breathe, buddy, c'mon, man. It's okay, you're fine," Dean soothed, kneeling down beside the couch and grabbing one of his shaking hands to squeeze it tight. With the bright light and busted electrical stuff, Dean was starting to think the house had been struck by lightning, and panicked for a second, thinking Cas had been struck. But he was sitting on a couch inside, nowhere near anything metallic or otherwise lightning-attracting, and aside from his usual mussed hair, he didn't look like he'd been touched since Dean left his side.

"Cas, we'll get you help if you need it, okay? You're gonna be just fine, I've got you," Dean continued, rubbing a hand up and down Cas' arm. Cas continued to shake, but nodded, closing his eyes and pressing his face forward into Dean's shoulder. Dean let out a breath, bringing his hand around to Cas' back and sliding it up and down slowly. Bobby left them alone to wander around and see what had been broken, and came back around the time Cas was passed out again.

"Well, most everything's busted. Including the work computers," Bobby said, sighing loud and scratching his head.

"We've got backups of everything, Bobby, we shouldn't have lost much of anything," Dean pointed out.

"Guess you're right. Well, not much we can do right now. Don't even know how far the surge went. Could be the whole town's power did the same thing. I'm gonna head back to bed."

"Should we do anything about the glass?"

"We ain't got enough light to find it all. Just make sure you put your boots on before stepping anywhere in the morning."

Dean nodded, and Bobby left to head back to bed. Dean looked back at Cas, the wet streaks on his face shining in the little bit of light coming in through the window and his hand still gripping onto Dean's. He didn't want to leave Cas alone, and without much second thought, he spread out along the couch, separating their hands to loop his arm underneath Cas' side. It was a tight squeeze, but Cas fit just fine against his chest, and Dean fell asleep soon, comfortable and warm.

*

"Dean," an unfamiliar voice called, and Dean grumbled, reaching for Cas and trying to go back to sleep, but his arms were empty and the voice called again. "Dean. Wake up." He blinked his eyes groggily against the sunlight streaming in on his face and squinted to make out what was in front of him. Leaning up and rubbing his eyes with one of his hands, Cas' face slowly came into focus, and Dean was left dazed by how bright his smile was.

"Dean," the voice said, and it took Dean another few seconds to register that the voice was coming from Cas.

"Are you.. talking to me?"

"Yes."

"Am I dreaming?"

"No, but you are practically half-asleep," Bobby answered, and Dean struggled to look away from Cas' face and up at his uncle who was offering him a mug. "Here's some coffee."

Dean took it, but looked back to Cas, feeling confused and wary now. Cas' smile shrank, reading Dean's unease. "Dean--"

"Since when could you talk?"

"Last night. The surge. That was me."

Half-asleep or not, none of that made any sense. Dean looked to Bobby, expecting to see the same shock and disbelief he was feeling, but Bobby was calmly sipping at his coffee, like he'd been waiting for this to happen for some time.

"What the hell are you talking about? What's going on? Why can you talk?"

Cas took a deep breath, and it was the first time Dean could hear it. Before, Cas never made any kind of sound, like he had no vocal chords at all. But here he was, talking just fine, and Dean had no idea what to make of that.

"I was an angel of the Lord, soldier of Heaven. I fell, but what little I still had of my grace kept me from speaking. If I had tried, I would've popped most of your internal organs and possibly your brain. But there were... conditions, that would let me speak again if they were met. And last night, they were."

Dean stared at him silently for a second before bursting out in a laugh. "What the hell? What kind of made up bullshit is this? Bobby?"

"Listen to him, son. He can prove it."

"What? Are you both nuts? Or are you just trying to make _me_ nuts," he mumbled, standing up and feeling off-balance. Cas followed, holding out an arm to steady him, but Dean batted it away. "Don't," he warned. He hoped he was still asleep, that this was some bizarre nightmare, and he'd wake up on the couch with Cas still passed out on top of him, cuddling against his chest. He started to feel shaky, panicking and bewildered, and Cas took the mug from him before he fell backwards onto the sofa. "Fuck. What the fuck."

"Dean, I'm trying to explain--"

"You're not making any sense!" Dean shouted, startling them both. He looked up at Cas, hands trembling where they were grabbing onto his own jeans, and pleaded, "Cas, I don't care if you lied about being mute, okay? I don't care. Just stop lying to me now about all this _angel_ crap."

Cas kneeled back down beside his legs, reaching a hand out to one of Dean's. When Dean didn't warn him to stop, he covered it and squeezed. "I don't want to lie to you. That's why I insisted on telling you as soon as I could."

"I _did_ tell him he should've waited until you'd at least had some breakfast," Bobby shrugged and Cas gave him a flat look.

"Your attitude isn't helping," Cas said, sounding irritated.

"Well your idea isn't working out too well so far, either," Bobby countered, taking a sip of his coffee. Bobby looked at Dean then, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder before heading for the door. "He and Pam had a hard time convincing me at first, too, but you'll believe him, and I wouldn't have brought him here if I knew he was trying to do you wrong. I'll leave you two idjits alone to figure things out," he said, grabbing a jacket and walking outside.

Dean had calmed down a bit watching Bobby and Cas talk so casually, and from hearing Bobby's reassurance, but he was still feeling well out of his depth as he heard the front door shut. He took a deep breath, grabbed the coffee Cas was still holding and took a long sip of it, his fingers brushing Cas' hand where it was gripping onto the handle. Cas watched him quietly and Dean let out a sigh.

"Can you get off the floor?" he asked, and it wasn't what Cas was expecting him to say because he didn't move and looked confused, so Dean grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up and onto the couch. He took the mug from Cas' hand and put it on the coffee table, then slouched back into the cushions, waiting for Cas to lean into his side like he'd grown so used to. Cas did, eventually, and somehow it made talking about this a bit easier.

"Alright. Let's rewind. You said the thing last night was you, right?" With his eyes focused on where their knees bumped against each other, he felt more than saw Cas nod beside him. "What was it?"

"My grace leaving me. I didn't have much left, but what I had was enough to keep me living indefinitely if the condition to fall completely wasn't met, so the release of that much energy so soon and so sudden unfortunately overwhelmed me and the midwest. That's why I was so... unsettled, last night."

"Okay," Dean said, trying to comprehend everything until the a particular word registered, "Wait. The midwest? The _whole_ midwest?"

"Yes, Bobby heard something about it on the radio. Apparently they're blaming it on a series of severe snowstorms in the region."

"Alright," Dean said, shaking his head. He'd believe it was snow over some weird angel power, but he'd seen the light and heard the sound, and snow didn't do that. But he still wasn't buying it. "So you're an angel, and you had some kind of superpower juice, but now it's gone?"

"That's a bit oversimplified, but yes," Cas said, a little indignant.

"What made you lose it?"

Cas was slow to answer this time, Dean catching sight of his fingers picking at the seam of his jeans. He took so long to speak that Dean finally glanced at his face, only to see his cheeks bright pink, which made his own face feel warm. "You... fell in love... with... me..." Cas mumbled finally, voice so quiet Dean almost didn't hear him finish, but he did, and his heart skipped a few beats and his palms felt damp where they squeezed against his thighs.

"What are you talking about?" Dean whispered, keeping his eyes far and away from every part of Castiel. He remembered with perfect clarity the moment he thought, _Oh crap, I think I love him,_ right as everything started to explode, but Castiel couldn't know about that. If he was trying to trick Dean into admitting it first, he wasn't about to fall for it.

But Cas touched a hand to Dean's arm, not trying to force Dean's attention but asking for it, and kept his focus on Dean until he couldn't look away any longer. One glance at Cas' face and Dean knew he saw right through him. He _knew_.

Clearing his throat, Dean turned back to stare at his knees, and asked instead, "What does _that_ have to do with anything?"

"That was the condition, because I fell to Earth for you. If you fell in love with me, I would become fully human."

"And if not?"

"I would live on Earth beyond all other life, unable to return to Heaven but not human enough to die, as punishment."

Dean sat quietly for a while after that, Cas' hand dropping back to his own lap as he waited beside him, but all Dean could do was sigh and shake his head. "I can't do it, Cas. All this. Angel and Heaven stuff, I can't. There's lying and then there's... whatever it is you're trying to do, I don't know, I just can't believe it. I don't know what you said to Bobby to get him to believe you or why you needed me to--... but whatever, I'm out, I'm done."

He stood up from the couch, heading for the door. He had to go talk to Bobby, try to get him to tell the truth, or at least explain why he brought Cas here at all. But before he got very far, Cas had grabbed his wrist and spun him back around to face him, placing his free hand on Dean's hip, pressing right against his scar. Dean froze, too startled to fight him off just yet, and when he met Cas' eyes, he saw a furious calm.

"I saved you, Dean Winchester," Cas said, voice quiet but firm, "I came to you, in the wreckage of your father's Impala the night you two were in that accident, with metal pierced through your torso and I held you together. I touched my grace to the Earth for the first time in thousands of years because I didn't want to let you die, and I was cast down from Heaven for it. Now you will listen, and you will believe me."

Every detail, down to the time on the car radio when he last checked before the truck hit them and the quiet prayer he made to a god he didn't believe in when he thought he was going to die. Everything that Dean remembered, Cas listed for him, and Dean thought his heart would burst from how hard it was beating, almost unable to hear Cas over the pounding rush of blood in his ears. Bobby didn't know what happened that night, Sam didn't, not even the doctors at the hospital who saved his life knew everything about that night. But Cas knew it all, as if he'd plucked the memory right out of Dean's mind and now knew it better than Dean did himself. As Dean listened, he thought back to all the times he'd wondered if Cas was an alien, weirdly inhuman and otherworldly in strange little ways. He remembered the day he'd first brought Cas to the Impala--the way Cas had stepped right to the passenger side, touched the metal and looked right at him, like he was familiar with the torn up edges and why the door was missing. As if he knew. Like he had been there.

Watching Cas' face, calm and certain as he spoke, all the pieces fell together, and Dean believed.

*

"Sorted it out?"

"Ah, yeah. Mostly," Dean sniffed, stepping out onto the front porch. Bobby had finished his coffee but he was still holding onto his mug. "How'd he get you to believe the... everything when he couldn't even talk?" 

"Before it all popped outta him, his angel power let him do a sort of. Mind meld kinda thing. He touched his forehead to mine and showed me enough that I believed him."

Dean scratched at his neck and cleared his throat. "Was it personal stuff?"

Bobby coughed and adjusted his hat. "Yeah."

After a few moments, they looked at each other in quiet understanding and Bobby slid an arm over Dean's shoulders, squeezing him close. Dean wondered if Cas could've saved them both a load of time and trouble by doing the mind meld thing with him, too, but what he was learning was that angels had a whole lot of rules. Telling Dean right off the bat that he needed to fall in love with Cas was probably breaking at least a few, and it would've made Dean keep a much bigger distance, too.

"He tell you the whole thing?"

"Not everything. Not yet. It was, uh, a lot to take in, so. He's gonna tell me the rest later. I think I've got the main jist of it, though."

"Fair enough. You probably want some breakfast by now, huh?"

"Yeah," Dean laughed, and Bobby clapped him on the arm before letting him go and leading the way back inside. Following behind him, Dean felt exhausted and drained even though he'd barely been up for half an hour, and there was still more he was going to have to try and take in and understand. The world had already been turned on its axis for him once today, but he was still standing upright and Cas was waiting for him, smiling softly at him as he made his way into the kitchen. Bobby had his back to them, looking through the cupboards for some bowls and cereal since the electricity for the fridge had been blown out and most of the food in it had probably gone bad over night. Cas held out his hand, probably just intending to give him a reassuring squeeze before letting go, but Dean took it without thinking and used it to pull Cas against him and kiss him once before burying his face in Cas' neck, taking a deep breath.

"... Will you do that again?" Cas whispered against Dean's ear, making him chuckle into his skin.

"Later," Dean promised, arms squeezing around Cas' waist. When he finally pulled back, Cas' eyes kept flicking down to his mouth, making him grin. He heard the phone ring, but Bobby grabbed it, and Dean was reminded of the call with Pamela he'd overheard almost a month ago. A thought occurred to him, and he leaned back in to Cas' space, asking quietly, "Hey, what happened to those panties you wore the first day you were here?"

"Pamela's? I left all her clothes out for Bobby after I changed and he mailed them back to her. Why?"

Dean felt a pang of disappointment, but shook his head. "It's nothing."

"Hey Dean, Sam's on the phone," Bobby said, and Dean looked up quickly, holding a hand out for the phone.

"Hey, Sammy," he smiled, "Yeah, it was a big surprise for us, too. Sorry I didn't call back. But hey, listen, there's someone I want to introduce you to." Dean's arm slid out from where it was wrapped around Cas' waist until it was down by his side, letting their knuckles brush together. "It _is_ pretty serious, yeah," Dean laughed, hearing Sam's surprise, "His name's Cas, hold on a sec, I'll put him on."

Dean hooked onto Cas' fingers loosely with his free hand and held out the phone with the other. "It's my brother Sam. Just say hi, maybe wish him a merry Christmas."

Cas knew a lot about Dean, so maybe he knew what this meant to him, but Dean would tell him more about Sam later, anyway. Cas had done most of the talking today so far, but he wasn't the only one with a lot to say. Dean grinned when Cas took the phone, giving Sam an awkward, "Hello, this is Castiel," greeting before knitting his eyebrows together and nodding, listening very intently to whatever Sam was saying on the other end. Dean rubbed his thumb against Cas' fingers and glanced over at Bobby leaning against the kitchen counter eating a bowl of cereal, smiling fondly at the both of them standing in each other's space in the middle of his kitchen. He wondered if he should feel embarrassed, but couldn't muster it right then.

"I'll do that. Yes. Goodbye, Sam," Cas said before offering the phone back and Dean took it, wondering what Sam had told him to do.

"So Sammy, what do you think?" Dean asked as Cas slipped out of his space to grab his own bowl of cereal.

"Sounds like you both got it bad. It's almost gross."

"You're gross," Dean countered, cracking Sam up.

"Really, though, it sounds like he's been good for you," Sam said, voice going soft. It was his 'serious emotional talk' voice, and Dean would've rolled his eyes if he had the energy for it, but he'd been doing nothing but serious emotional talks so far today. One more wouldn't hurt. "You sound a lot happier than the last few times I called."

"He is," Dean agreed, watching Cas carefully chew his corn flakes. "I am." Cas watched him back, offering a smile, and Dean couldn't help but mirror it.


End file.
